


Aduial

by Yuriah



Series: Ethuil en elenath [1]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Burns, Depression, Injury Recovery, M/M, Mentions of War, Other, Post-War of Last Alliance, Recovery, References to Depression, Sickness, Slow Build, Slow Burn, War of the Last Alliance, Wounds, mentions of deaths
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2019-08-08 18:30:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16434599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuriah/pseuds/Yuriah
Summary: Surprisingly, or not at all, as this was the elven-king worst flaw as well as his best virtue, his stubbornness was what brought them together.And after the war, Elrond could taste it's bittersweetness.





	1. 1

They were looking for survivors, barah-dûr was still a chaos on the aftermath of the batle when spotted him.

Kneeled between the deceased like he was in praying, his open hands rested over his knees, palms up, the handle of his twin sword over the left one, face slightly upwards, closed eyes.

Parts of his armour and helmet were missing and his silvery hair flowed with the wind, one of his swords stuck into the ground by his side, a indescribable mixture of awe and fear surrounded him.

As they approached they understood what happened and elves behind Elrond were hindered by sorrow and averted their eyes. 

The damage was beyond cruel, fire consumed everything on his left side left him disfigured, blackened, bleeding, oozing, parts of his skin open to the bone.

Elrond closed the distance and was shaken to find the elven prince still breathing, heart beating weakly. He needed to act quickly and so he looked around to get his bearings just to find out the ominous black form in the distance with a shiver running deep through his body. Once again he felt the terror of this war soaked into his very bones as his eye contemplated the destruction all around them.

At last he noticed the figure where the prince knelt in front of, his throat closed with the pain, he turned back to the prince.

A mix of sadness and anger and frustration took him at once and he saw white as his feelings burned into him, in seconds he made his decision.

\- You will not die here Thranduil! You will NOT!

He said to the unconscious elf and screamed to his companions to help move him as he wrapped in his cloak.

-o-

They runned back into the camp in Dagorlad and Elrond’s mind was a blur, receiving and giving orders as they came and went without feeling. 

One part of his mind noticed the hollowness inside, the strangeness of it made him sick, but the other side understood that as a necessity as he could not afford to fail, not anymore, and therefore he could not afford to falling into his feelings now.

And so he went nonstop through that night, through warriors, and running and healers entering and living the tent blindly. 

And so he went through that whole week, between screams, and tents, and wounded, and deaths, and dead, and fire, and ashes, and then through their march back to Rivendell, sour and somber and scared by grief.

He utterly believed that, was it not from Vilya's powers, many elves would have died, he believed the prince would on their first day of march, it made him thought on how somethings were meant to be and his heart ached, thinking on Gil-Galad and all their loss.

Even then he particularly he couldn’t quite understand how the prince was enduring. Sure Vilya was a invaluable resource, and he was absolutely glad for that, but he couldn’t quite understand, when he saw man and elves alike, die from less grave injuries than his own.

He feared nevertheless of have made a terrible decision, visions of a terrible future haunted him should the prince die on his arms. But he could not think on how he would care for the prince otherwise, he needed his tools, his place, his healers and his resources. 

He could help him! He must help him! But his hands where hindered in there.

So as soon as they crossed Isen, not more than a day after, Glorfindel came to him offering his horse and the promise to guide their people back to Rivendell unharmed, for what Elrond felt deeply grateful for, but the warrior also warned him.

\- You should make haste, my friend, for I fear there is not much fight left in this prince body.

And so he runned as he never had before, over the back of Glorfindel’s horse and Thranduil’s body pressed against his.

 

The first days were terrifying, and made Elrond feel like he was back to the battlefields again, fighting desperately for the life of his comrades.

It drained him and at the same time made him feel like it was a personal affair.  
He could not, for the life of him, loose this elf too.

The army arrived some days later, thankfully, when Thranduil had enough stable condition to be left alone for a couple hours for there were lots of wounded. Soon there was no time to anything else than work and rest.

-o-

He was not quite back yet, his eyes were open but empty, staring at the nothingness, what was not ideal but was a relief after almost three weeks unconscious.

Elrond came to learn that dragon fire was, as every wound made by morgoth’s weapons and devils, very difficult to heal even from a elven body.

Thranduil’s was still very far from recovery, left side completely scorched by the fire, the wet wounds still bleed and suppurated, he trembled constantly, the waves of pain running through his body constantly, he could not move, he breathed laboriously, wheezing, he was blinded on his left eye where the fire licked his face, sapphire blue turned white, skin torn, lips wounded.

The burns had swelled in some parts and dried in others, difficulty his breath, some parts his skin were completely dead and Elrond was particularly glad that Thranduil was not conscientious to feel the long hours surgery they had to perform on him.

His fever was yet to break, but comparing to what is was for the first several days, when it was so intense that one could feel it radiating from his body, it was a great improvement, even though he shivered constantly from cold, since his body could not retain warmth with his skin burned as it was.

As each day passed he saw, with no small relief, the life coming back to them and the usual sharpness return to his blue eye, now the only left.

But as well as his relief grow, so did the realization that some battles ended for others to begin in their place.  
And as his conscience recovered, Elrond came to find that the elf could be infuriating, what was profoundly impressive considering that a completely still and pliant and defenseless patient, on the brink of death, could be so defiant.

 

The healer was trying to feed him, but the prince refused.

At first he thought it could be grief.

The knowledge of all their lost in that battle, so many of his people, his father... and a great part of his own body and self.

But though his eyes were filled with sadness he wasn’t unresponsive, as some patients would be under the shock of loss.

Then it could be something personal, some kind of resentment or anger for the last terrible events that befall them all. He could remember clearly the heated arguments Oropher and Gil-Galad had concerning the battles to come, and how the forest king thought his people were being used as shield for the noldor to survive, as if they were expendable lives.

Of course the half-elf knew his king enough to know that was not the case, that Gil-Galad would never think of lives as expandable things, but on the other hand that was war and sacrifices must to be done.

During all the exchanges the prince was absolutely silent, his face covered with a impenetrable cold mask, his eyes watched intently around the barracks, the heaviness in them felt as cold waves running over the spine of every and each one they focused.

The only times the prince would talk were only when asked for tactical advice to his father, Amdír and the other commanders.

No one knew about the feelings of the prince about the proceedings, although his father was open to let his feeling and opinions be known, even if in harsh manners sometimes, his son was not as open, guarding carefully his opinions and feelings to himself and dealing objectively with the facts at hand.

It was easy to understand why the prince had become the king advisor, he earn the position not by inheritance, but for being the reason for Oropher’s passions.

The prince could have silently followed his father’s ideals and begrudge him and all the noldor, despite their previous long friendship.

But if that was the reason, somehow the displeasure would show, on his eye, on his face, on his body or in the minimal movements he was able to. Elrond could find nothing of this in Thranduil, however, and found himself at loss of what was happening and that worried him.

Thranduil condition was still risky, true, himself deemed it as stable, but in a way that meant he was not in the terrible state he was when they first arrived Rivendell, he not getting worse, but that also meant that he was not recovering yet.

So Elrond fret every time Thranduil would refuse to eat.

Of course he could keep the prince on lembas, give him potions that would nourish him as well as help with the healing instead of trying to feed him. But he thought of it as risky. The way he evaluated the prince’s condition, burned and weakened as he was, the more normally his body could work, the better would be for his recovery.

Also, he had passed too much time on this kind of diet, when the prince was not conscientious enough or too feverish to protest, and even if it could nourish him, the effects was visible as he lost weight rapidly while his body worked incessantly to try recover from the wounds.

But as soon as his eyes cleared from the worst of the fever, he start refusing, looking at Elrond’s eyes, staring with his blue unblinking eye, heavy as always, seeming to reach the ends of one’s soul, and calmly, defiantly, he refused.

-o-

Elrond at this point was reaching the peak of his stress, watching the prince wither each day that passed. It was not common for the lord of Rivendell to lose his calm, but this nonsensical challenge was absurd, it had no explanation, no motifs, an more than anything, was extremely dangerous, and the healer was having none of it anymore.

\- What is happening to you, Thranduil?

If the prince was acting like a spoiled elfling, than that was how he would be treated.

\- Why you do this? Why you make this situation more difficult than it is already?

Uninterested the prince looked to the sky outside, way past the windows of his room at the clearing firmament, as if not hearing the elf fussing beside him.

The healer took a deep calming breath. Thranduil was avoiding him, and surprisingly he found himself very frustrated at this, in a way he didn’t since his childhood.

That was the fourth day he was trying. At this point the beginnings of a new self knowledge dawned of him, frustration was always one of the hardest feelings for him to deal with, and what a well timed moment to rediscover such a thing, when he was far, far too raw and tired to deal with it, as the end of the war was finally taking its tolls over the healer.

Anger was slowly building in him, coiling at his stomach, but then he forced himself out of it, remembering not for the first time Thranduil was injured, a patient, and should be treated carefully, so he swallowed a couple of times, breathing slowly, unclenching his jaw, and controlling his tone he continued.

\- Thranduil, please, you must listen to me. There is much at stake now, your people can not sustain losing you too.

Elrond plead with a calm, sweet tone, and Thranduil turned his attention to him for the first time in days, with a faint expression of one who can not comprehend what was being said, disbelief in his expression.

For just a couple of seconds Elrond thought the prince’s mind could be damaged too.

\- Do you hear what you say to me?

He said however, voice hoarse and low, but audible. The first full sentence he had said after the war.

The healer felt that as a conquest, as if finally he had got to reach the blond elf through that cockoon he had immersed himself in, he tried not to show him that, but his eyes betrayed the releaf he felt over finally connecting with a long lost friend.

\- Yes, Thranduil. But do you understand? They need you, so please, let me help

Elrond pressed gently with a smile, and then the woodland prince’s expression morph from disbelief into hurt, upset, a so deeply-rooted emotion that it startle the peredhel who just looked back at him completely lost.

\- You don’t understand, do you?

His blue eye kept holding him, growing sadder each second until he sighed and with a painful expression turned away looking back at the sky.

\- Your words serves you as well

The healer was left gaping, freezed on the spot, and as the words dawned on him he felt like he had been slapped on the face, it would have been easier if he had been slapped cause the emotional sting of his words caused a breathlessness he never experienced before.

As he recovered from the blow, cold shock turned into hot anger quickly and he took several deep breaths trying to remember his position as a healer and Thranduil’s as a patient he pushed it down with little success

\- But I am not gravely injured, as you are, Thranduil

He offered softly, but his voice sounded sour and maybe a little condescending, as he felt he was dealing with a little child being difficult. Thranduil huffed humorless.

\- But you are fading.

The prince stated calmly, cold blue eye turning back to stare at Elrond, a part of his mind noticing how interesting it was that even hurt as he was, he had such presence and power.

\- You foolish old fellow...

Reaction took over Elrond’s face before he could notice, and that gained a soft smiled from the blond, the healer was losing his temper fast, Thranduil knew, he was doing it on purpose, guiding him to do what he wanted to.

\- And they say I'm absent minded

He pressed again contemplating Elrond's already angry face with a restrained but satisfied smirk.

\- I should warn you, Thranduil Oropherion, that vulgarity is not well received in my lands as it is in yours. I advise you to hold your tongue for I’m still your healer and the lord of this place.

Again the blond elf seemed to find the other elf very funny.

\- Are you, sir? So enlighten me of what do you intend to do? Leave me without dinner?

Cold anger took Elrond at once and he saw white. Thranduil’s expression did nothing to help for the elf, even with half of his face burnt he could muster enough presence to watch him with a mixture of calm appreciation, satisfaction and mischief.

He couldn’t bear to be in the same room as the prince anymore and so he got up hastily knocking the chair as he stormed out of the room.

\- Impossible elf!

He exclaimed already outside, but he could hear his “Thank you” in response through the closed door.

-o-

Elrond was fuming for the rest of that day, and the other healers who worked with him could easily see it in his manner throughout the day, though he was never lashing out at anyone, careful and gentle natured as he was, he sometimes closed his eyes taking several deep breaths, abandoning whatever he was doing when that happened and excusing himself profusely.

Even his expression was not under his usual demeanor, every elf that daily worked beside him in Rivendell could see that clear as day, no one said nothing though, just smiling at him gently and taking over whatever the lord was working on.

It was late afternoon when a servant entered the study leaving a tray with food and tea for them to snack on should the work last long into the night.

Glorfindel was the first to disperse, getting up and meeting the servants halfway to help them and bringing the tray to the side table where he was already setting the teacups.

Erestor worked synchronized with the blond elf, nimbly sorting through the papers and separating them into piles for them to work later leaving Elrond to just stare at them.

\- You could use some respite, mellon nin

Said Glorfindel pouring some tea into a cup and placing into a vacate spot over the table, the peredhel just sighed and sat taking the teacup that was offered to him.

\- If you allow me… - Began Erestor placing the papers away and coming back to sit with them. - You are looking quite sour, all day long

When Elrond didn’t denied the noldo continued.

\- Has something happened?

The healer sighed again

\- A patient is being very difficult and giving me a hard time

Both elves looked silently at each other.

\- Thranduil…

Said Glorfindel tentatively as Erestor sipped his tea, Elrond looked at them questioning and the blond elf smiled at him.

\- Is not that difficult to guess. No other healer has reported such occurrence and Thranduil is the only patient that you attend on your own

\- Also his difficult personality is known as well

Erestor had no intention, but the comment left Elrond with a sentiment of confusion inside him.  
That is true Thranduil had always had a eccentric nature, but this ‘saying’ was coined a long time ago, when they were much younger, and Thranduil way of thinking and fast wits made him stand out from the others, making it difficult for them to follow a conversation with him.

But contrary to what was said about him, Thranduil was a very gentle and cheerful elf, and he felt that was unfair that the stubborn and headstrong personality of his father overshadowed the greatness of his own character.

\- Have he lashed out on you?

\- What? No! Of course not

Elrond snapped back to reality correcting his steward. The mere thought of having even just a more heated argument with Thranduil, made him feel wrong and strange. No. It was not a fight. Thranduil was not attacking him, he would made it very clear if that was the case. But then…

\- I… do not know what is happening with him, never mind what could be going through his mind right now

\- Well you wouldn’t be the first. Try not unman yourself over this, my friend

Offered Glorfindel and swiftly changed the topic, what Elrond was grateful for.

-o-

That night, when Elrond went to check on the prince he noted immediately how the abstinence was beginning to affect his body. He seemed more aloof, his eyes less focused, slower responses to any stimulus.

Fever was slowly taking over him again.

\- You can not keep doing this, Thranduil

Elrond said but he just snorted. 

\- Can’t I?

\- You are so stubborn

\- I see we can agree on something

He said and that was enough to send the healer back at the same state of anger he had earlier.

-o-

Elrond couldn't get sleep that night.

He found himself turning over and over in his bed, and gave up trying after a time. Now he stood in bed clothes, wrapped with his hobe watching the stars from his balcony., his eyes, as always found its way through the sky until they met Gil-Estel, the warm longing filled his chest… but nothing more.

Just sadness, and loss, and the aching wish for everything to be over.

Part of his mind, the part that was always rational screamed at him, and he felt immediately guilty, hundreds and hundreds of reasons for why he was being unfair, egoistic, weak, reasons for why he should not, must not give in, and still the desire was there… or should be, except it was empty but for the aching sadness, and the longing for an ending. Uncaring for reason, solid as a rock inside of his chest slowly dragging him under.

It felt like a war inside, and it felt like it would stay like this forever. The urge to cry washed over him, and almost choke him, but nothing came, no relief, nothing.

He pressed his eyes closed and tried to breath away the tightness on his chest to no avail.

Thranduil was right, he was fading, and to acknowledge it made him feel angry. Angry at the prince for being so stubborn, for making everything even more difficult than it was already. For picking on him exactly when he felt most vulnerable and weak. When he felt he could explode at any moment. For pressing, for being childish, for putting himself at harms way just to defy.

But mostly he felt angry at himself, because somehow he failed to hide the turmoil inside of him.

“But you are fading”

His words repeated in Elrond’s mind and he flinched gripping the stone railing tightly. The prince didn’t told anything that he didn’t knew already, but he still felt the sting of it.

In middle of so much sorrow, fear and torment, the healer had hopes that by burrow himself in work, patient, after patient, after patient, burrow himself in paperwork and the chaos that was administer the after war as one of the last elven realms still standing, filling every part of his time until there was no space left in his mind and heart for nothing but exhaustion.

Avoidance...

Just not to acknowledge this, this empty, shadowy thing that nestled inside his chest. To look inside and behold the disfigured monster he had become.

At this thought he remembered Thranduil, his face… his body, and he felt the horror fill his chest at what he had done. He didn’t noticed when he started screaming or when he collapsed over his knees and still no tears came to his eyes.

He sobbed nonetheless, pressing his hands over his mouth and trembled curling into himself.  
Thranduil was right… He was fading, slowly slipping away, morphing into shadowy reminiscent of himself while trying to convince he was still in control of his own mind.

He was fading, and he felt weak, feeble, guilty, scared, deformed, coward, unfair, egoistic, miserable, broken and empty, a failure, and that he, that elf… that beyond broken elf, alive for the will of the valar alone, from all people should be the one who could see that so clearly, should be the one to tell him so… it hurted deeply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoy and I also hope to see you in the next chapter, because it'll be more ;3
> 
> Here I am once again!  
> Mustering some courage to post more fics about those two.  
> Tell me what are you thinking about the story, I'll love to know your thoughts and impressions <3
> 
> I gave myself the liberty to put all Sauron's devils in that last aliance batle.  
> So... dragons, balrogs and lots of other fire morgoth's creations were present on this battle and I left this purposefully open to interpretation.
> 
> As always I leave here a riminder that I am not a native english speaker and this work had no proofreading or Beta Reader.  
> Knowing that I still need lots of improvement I invite you to help me!  
> If you happen to find some error, have some tips or would like to help me improve, feel free to send me a message. <3  
> Any constructive critique is welcome.
> 
> Glossary:  
> barah-dûr: "The Dark Fortress" (sindarin) is the Dark Lord Sauron's primary stronghold in Mordor;
> 
> dagorlad: "battle plain" (sindarin) is largely a treeless wasteland where most of the battles between Sauron's forces and the Last Alliance of Elves and Men happened. There is also were the deceased in battle were buried after the war;
> 
> ellon: "male elf" (sindarin);
> 
> Vilya: "air", "sky" (quenya) but is also the name of one of the three elven rings made by Celebrimbor, is also known as "the Ring of Sapphire", "the Blue Ring", or "the Ring of Air";
> 
> Rivendell: also known by Imladris (sindarin) is an elven town and the house of Elrond. It is described as "The Last Homely House East of the Sea";
> 
> Gil-Galad: "star of radiance" (sindarin) was a noldorin elf, son of Fingon and the bore the title as the "last high king of the elves of west";
> 
> Isen: "iron" (rohirric), angren (sindarin), is a river of Rohan;
> 
> mellon nín: "my friend" (sindarin);
> 
> Gil-Estel: "the evening star" (sindarin), refer to the silmarill taken back to Valinor by Eärendil, the mariner. Also known as The star of Eärendil;
> 
> Eärendil: "lover of the sea" (quenya), a great half-elven mariner who voyaged to Valinor and carrying a silmarill. Father of Elros and Elrond;
> 
> Valinor: "land of the valar" (quenya), the land across the sea, also known as Undying Lands. Is the land of the Gods in the West and to where the elves sail to their final rest;
> 
> athelas: "healing plant" (sindarin/noldorin);
> 
> aduial: the evening, "time of star-opening" (sindarin)


	2. Chapter 2

Next dawn was hard. Hard as it has never been before.

To enter that room.

To face the meaning it had gained.

Suddenly that was not just Thranduil's room.

His doors where a threshold, inside, a world of its own. A physical realm where his fears projected, the feel of death so close, the gloomy air, stifled with the smell of burned flesh, sickness, blood and medicine, lingering even with windows wide open.

Inside that room the war has never ended. The war happening still, dwelling inside of one elf's body, shadow was so close, threatening to eclipse forever where once was only warm gentle light.

Thranduil… was his own punishment, for the choices he had not made, had become a pledge of what the evil could do, of all that war had took from them, the embodiment of Elrond's own internal suffering and fears.

Disfigured, weak, flawed, slowly withering away, fighting constantly, never at peace. And the horror, the sadness in his eyes. Then he noticed, for the first time, that he looked at his friend, with distance of a professional, with the eyes of a healer, but long have been since he last saw him, since he really have seen his friend.

The air fled his lungs as realization stroke him and he trembled, hands flattened over the hard wood as he fought for every gasp of air, his heart ached his lungs burned.

He was not ready to face Thranduil again.

His hands opened the door nevertheless, without stealing any more time to himself he entered, conceiving the fact that maybe, just maybe, he ought not be ready...

... and maybe that was exactly what the blond elven prince wanted.

Dimly a memory came back to him, of a kingdom that was no more, of woods, and herbs, and younger blond elf researcher, not yet a prince, and a game of words.

A game…

He opened the doors and the prince was completely still under the fading light of the hearth. Chest barely moving, pain deep in each movement.

His eye glowed, reflecting the weak light as a cat eye would, but did not moved, did not acknowledge his presence in the room.

Elrond's chest tightened, fearing for him, but then did he really? Or was he feared for himself? What was the loss that scared him most? Of his friend or of his own mind?

Unfair, how unfair had he been.

Certainly the distance he had imposed between them was not something a worried friend would do. Would it? Stuck to the entrance he tried not to think about the harm he had done to him. The distance, the cold treatment, the lack of words, the lack of feelings.

He tried not to think how much was his friend suffering. Alone. In silence.

Watching his own friend slip away while he was forced to fight, to keep fighting for a life that would be forever marred by pain and suffering.

How painful should that be?

Vain effort.

Ungluing his feets from the floor he forced himself to move, the routine sunk deep in his bones.

Long had he decided that was better if Thranduil’s room had his own pharmacy, with the necessity of constant care, have to travel back and fro the healers ward every time something unexpected happened could steal from them precious life saving minutes.

Did it bothered him? The sounds of herbs being grounded? the smells? the fact that he needed more light to work and for that every morning, deeming the night had ended, he opened the curtains without even a word to the guest in there? Did the cold air of morning made him shiver? What if he preferred to be warm?

Did silence bothered him? 

The peredhel didn't talked with him other than the necessary to complete his work. He thought if it needless, he thought Thranduil would need the energy to heal.

What if it hurt?

What if he had been conscientious since the first time he opened his eyes? What if the prince was lost in the shock of so much death and violence? Having to see more than half of his people being decimated along with his own father over and over again? Having to revive the moment where he lost half of his body to dragon fire, what if it had been to much for him and that silent vacant eyes were turned inside, reviving, recounting every day, every second of battle?

If that was what happened, he could have done something, could have reached to him.

To make his old friend come back from that deathly slumber.

But he didn't. 

Elrond didn't bother to try and at least talk to him because he thought he was not able to listen. 

His hand stopped working letting fall the pestle from it, the clank it made loud in the room.

He was alone. All this time Thranduil was alone.

Trembling Elrond retrieved the pestle and cleaning it continued his work, grinding and mixing herbs, chanting softly as he did.

Concentration did nothing for his mind that day, for every pound of his pestle was a aching beat of his heart, his mind racing. Methodically he prepared the balm and medicines, nonetheless, and went to sat by the prince's side on the bed.

Elrond began cleaning him, as he always did, carefully, slowly.

But this time it was different then every other, without escaping to the back of his mind, to the distant comfort of trained movements he was forced to finally look at him. He was seeing him... and every blister, raw skin, exposed muscle, scar tissue, skin implant, every stitch, magnified as if seen for the first time, burning in his mind.

The lord found his heart racing, uncontrollably, his eyes watered, but swallowing them back he continued, applying balm, giving medicine, patching was needed to be patched.

Thranduil let everything happen, a bystander in his own body, as Elrond poke and prodded, rinsed and wiped.

There was no protests when Elrond gave him a concoction. He was too weak to protest, fighting as he was against his fever, and he was losing it.

Heavy lidded, his eyes were glassy and mostly vacant, head lolling, skin burning, little beads of sweat sprinkled every inch of skin on his right side. His breath was difficult wheezing in his lungs as if filled with liquid, tears gathered on the side of his eyes, reddish yellow on his left blind eye.

The healer hands stopped when he finished, and for a moment he just sat there and watched his friend.  
He did not moan, no sound escaped his lips besides his breath, but he trembled with the effort of just existing in his own skin, and as always, the windows for mind were his eyes.

Deep, buried in them, he was tired, so tired, of everything, he wanted it to end, to end his suffering and Elrond gasped.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

There was so much pain, beyond physical, beyond anything the half-elf knew, and he felt like he couldn’t look, but he forced himself to watch him, to drink in his figure, to let the horrible reality sink to his bones, to see his friend, finally, for the first time in a long time.

He looked at what his friend was trying to show him all this time and his own tears were threatening to fall.

\- What do I have to do, Thranduil?

He said gingerly to the almost unconscious sinda, his eyes turned slowly as if just noticing the noldo there.

\- What do I have to do for you to let me save you?

“Show me, mellon nín” he thought as he waited for his beloved friend to gather strength to speak.

\- Stop being a hypocrite

He said eventually, voice hoarse, after a long pause, the sting deep in his heart and as his words dawned on him he shivered and felt cold.

\- Stop trying to save a life while you try to take yours... and stop making me play in your... altruistic... self sacrificing fantasies

They feel in silence again, as Elrond drank his words he tried and failed to show himself they were untrue.

They weren't.

-o-

There was no meaning in trying to achieve anything on that day, his mind wouldn't let him.

So when he let his companions know of his absence how grateful he was to have his request welcomed with gentle smiles and comprehension, even some relieved sighs.

He smiled at them, feeling just a hint of happiness, glad for having so many true and caring friends with him… ones he was sure he didn’t deserved.

In his room he put some tea to brew, washed the healing and medicine smells from him, changed clothes, groomed his hair. Then he put himself outside, in the balcony, and sipped his tea watching the morning goes by.

It was a beautiful morning, with golden sun, birds singing to greet it, light breeze playing on greenleaves, the soothing low sound of the river waters forever running.

He could remember clearly why he chose this place.

For its peacefulness, as it was by nature a place of rest and healing.

That’s how he envisioned it from the very beginning.

How funny it was that he could not find the peace that he envisioned and build with his own hands?

Not even the routine of his retirement, reserved for his most distressed days, build to some sense of calm, of grounding reassurance could bring him some peace. There was only emptiness and pain.

In the back of his mind Thranduil’s words played back and forth.

_“You are fading”_

And he knew, he admitted, he wanted…

And he was being terribly unfair.

Tired as he was, with all his defences turned into debris, he could do nothing more than admit, even if only to himself.

He was tired… and hurt, and lost.

There was so much grief, so many to grief for, so many tear that were not shed yet, and maybe would never.

There was so much pain, he didn’t know what to do with it.

He felt miserable, he felt responsible…

For this, for them, for everything.

He was punishing himself, depriving, forgetting.

Trying to repair something he didn’t even know what was anymore, or if he could.

He was desperate, and in despair he wanted the void in his chest to swallow him whole.

Unfair.

_“Hypocrite”_

Trying to save lives when he had lost the meaning of his own.

Elrond remembered Thranduil’s eyes after asking to let him “save” him, how he looked so hurt, so outraged.

Regret burned his chest and he found himself crying, in the silence of this peaceful city he cried, for his friend, for himself, for everything.

-o-

Long hours passed until the healer could stop crying, morning turned into afternoon and into night, slowly he gathered what was left of his dignity so he could walk through the corridors.

He was too aware of his still red rimmed eyes when he brought himself back to Thranduil’s room. As always he stayed silent, but acknowledge the healer as soon as he entered and sat by his side.

The sinda looked long at him, searching inside the gray eyes with his lonely blue one, emotions carefully hidden in it. Then he let his eyes fall to the plate, and back to Elrond that huffed humorlessly feeling absolutely ragged.

Again he contemplated his friend and found that he was simultaneously furious and amazed at him, for that elf, that unmoving, helpless, scorched, suppurating, feverish, beyond broken elf, had shattered his pride into hundreds of pieces and made a wreck of him just with his eyes.

\- Thranduil

He said softly but his voice broke as tears crawled their way back to his eyes.

\- I plead. Let me help you

The wood elf was tired then, too tired to fight, then he conceded.

The healer examined him again, tend to his wounds. Drank the concoction, and when Elrond offered, he ate one spoon of his food before refusing again.

That was enough to make the peredhel lost all his air, and his eyes fill with tears, he felt desperate. There was something more. Something he was not seeing and his mind raced, trying to find something, anything he could have missed on his friend.

He was being selfish, hr knew, but he couldn’t lose one more. He just couldn't.

Thranduil watched him closely, expressions still guarded and then relaxed letting his shoulders fall and his head rest lightly inclined to the right.

\- Eat

Said the sinda in only one hoarse breath and Elrond froze and gasped.

Tears found their ways back into his face, and he could not fight them, as he finally, finally understood that Thranduil, the silvery golden sindar prince now to be king, was not a child, not a young carefree ellon, not an aloof prince.

He was a valuable warrior, a considerate and fast witted brother in arms, a wise friend… and incredibly, absolutely, a very stubborn ellon. 

Sorrow, grief, sadness, fear. He wanted Elrond to fight them too, he would force Elrond to fight them too if it was necessary and the half-elf couldn’t feel anything but gratefulness to have him.

Nodding once he took one spoon to his mouth, his body almost immediately remembering him of the abstinence he put himself through without realizing.

Thranduil winced every time he swallowed, but kept going as long as Elrond did too.

When they finished the prince was delirious with fever, and the healer quickly finished tending to him so to let him rest.

As he took his leave he said, voice soft, still heavy with crying but carrying a relieved lightness that he didn't heared in his own voice in a long time.

\- You should try to sleep, Thranduil

\- … You should too

He said and something in the sinda's tone was enough to caught Elrond's atention and make him stop again and turn back.

The prince had his only blue eye at him, cold and piercing, and in that moment the peredhel came to understand the fierce strength of that elf fëa that even delirious could be strong and intimidating.

Or maybe that was Elrond’s fear of another quarrel while he was still trembling for the strain of this one.

The warning was clear though and the healer just let his shoulders fall as he retrieved a spare blanket, undone his outer robes and took the armchair at his side.

Almost immediately Thranduil’s eyes softened and he looked finally pleased as he seemed to drift into reverie.

Elrond watched him until he drifted too and when he woke up, not yet free from his nightmares, it was to find the prince’s hand holding into his own.


	3. Chapter 3

They fell into a routine.

At mornings Elrond would tend to Thranduil’s wounds after what they would break feast together and talk about amenities.

Then the lord would go to the healing wards, see other patients, stop again at midday to have a small lunch at the halls and resume his work until night, when he would stop at his own quarters and see to his own necessities, then go back to Thranduil’s room to check on him once more, minister his medications and finally they would chat a little, maybe eat something, or read and go sleep.

The fact there was a routine established, contrary to expectation, was a good and welcome sensation.

After such a long siege, where all they had were insecurities and what they could expect was death, the routine, the repetition, the knowing of what to expect for the next day had a feeling of security and reassurance in it that Elrond didn't knew he needed so badly until finding himself craving to go back to Thranduil’s rooms every night.

There was also a pattern in his actions, every night, even after a bad day in which the pains were so strong that just exist was a terrible burden, what happened more often than the peredhel would like, he would ask with his best calm voice.

\- How was your day?

At first the question seemed senseless, there was nothing different.

After a war of the nature they had, there was so much that could be constant, strive and loss… And the peredhel believed both, there was nothing that the prince didn’t knew already, and that if there was, it was better if he had no knowledge of it for there was enough suffering in him.

Having that in mind, Elrond answer was.

\- The same as always

To that Thranduil would nod and stay silent, but then slowly he would introduce other questions. And so came the day when he asked.

\- Did you lose anyone today?

\- No

\- I see… then it was a good day

Said the prince simply and to his surprise the lord found that he was right.

So every day since then the peredhel tried to be grateful for each day that passed that they didn’t had to say goodbye to someone.

Next the prince would ask about much simpler things.

How was the sky, which colors were the dusk, if there was any birds migrating, how they sounded like, which stars could be seen in that time of the year, if the squirrels were already making their homes for the winter to come.

They were such strange questions, but then Thranduil was locked in a room for two moons now and appeared to Elrond that the elf, used to live between nature, would miss it. And so, as to indulge his friend in his illness the peredhel started to take note of little things.

\- Today the people were happy, as you know, we had rain earlier today, but the the sky opened right after and we had a rainbow

\- The first rainbow after the siege, huh?

\- Yes, and the sky was orange with the setting sun so everything was golden because of the light.

Thranduil smiled with it, the smile never reached his eyes but he was trying and that was good enough for the peredhel.

In the next days Elrond looked for the things the sindar prince had asked him, but as the days passed he found out that slowly he began to look for those things himself, without the effort it took before.

Noticing a passing butterfly, a very blue hummingbird kissing the last flowers of autumn, the flowers own their own, their shapes, their colors, their scent.

Simple things, like a laugher of a man, the shape of the clouds, and how the sun felt in his skin, what colors the sunset tinted the sky each day, a elven couple funny quarry, the feel of the wind, the sun big as a coin as the equinox approached.

They were so simple it almost seemed silly if the peredhel had not found himself amazed to suddenly find so many things to look for, so many things to watch.

It was like an exercise, and he chuckled to himself whilst basking in the last lights of sunset that evening. An exercise… Thranduil had made him do, probably because he had being annoyed at receiving the same answer “the same as always” day after day.

Once again his beloved friend was right, they were not the same as always, they would never be, for life was always running like a river, growing, forever changing.

Remind him of the only time life could happen, in the present.

He felt warm thinking about it, thinking about the gentleness of his friend and how amazing was that once again an elf, bedridden elf, would surprise him so much, teach him so much.

Therefore now each day, as he returned to Thranduil’s room, he always had something new to tell him, to show him. Like today that he had took the time to collect some fallen flowers and leaves to bring him.

Simple… so simple, and yet what a difference that made. In Thranduil, in himself.

Taking them both from the turmoil inside their minds, bringing them back to the present.

They were fighting the same wars after all and in that dark times, any reminder that there was still hope was an invaluable gift.

-o-

\- What if there was a way for you to be transported around

\- You mean walk

Elrond chuckled and sipped from his tea while waiting for the prince to finish his reading.

\- You are a fool

\- Am I? Than what do you mean?

Closing the book and putting it aside the sinda returned his attention to his friend as he poured some tea and carefully placed it secure in his hands.

They were over Thranduil’s bed, the prince sat down propped with pillows. The last thing Elrond wanted was to make a mess of Thranduil’s bed, so he moved carefully as not to disturb anything from their tray of late night snacks.

\- I mean, a way for you to move, while still in rest by the time your strength isn’t yet back to your body

\- Well, tell me

\- Better if I show you instead

Moving carefully the lord went to the desk, retrieving a dark, soft covered book, a drawing charcoal and came back.

\- I’ve been thinking on this for a while now, on how bedridden patients would benefit of ways to move around

\- Like sun baths

Offered Thranduil sipping from his tea while watching Elrond doodle on the pages.

\- Yes. It is not fancy by any mean, but the idea came to me as I saw carriages transporting things some days ago

Finished him turning the book so the sindar could see better.

\- Consists basically in a chair over wheels

\- A wheeled chair…

There was no expression in special on Thranduil’s face, but he seemed interested and looked at the drawing attentively, Elrond couldn’t help but feel sheepish and curious about his friend opinion, but he tried to hid it from his voice as he asked.

\- Would you use something like this?

Thranduil looked up at him and the mischief in his expression made the lord smile.

\- Anything to get out of that room already

\- Really? So can I talk with my…

\- Woodworkers? Yes, please! But I think we can make some considerations before sending them the idea

Seeing his friend enthusiasm filled his chest with gratefulness and with a smile he turned back to the book where Thranduil made his own sloppy sketches.

\- We can think of a rocking chair for balance as it have to support the back in a comfortable manner without creating the risk of falling backwards

\- Well though

They stayed at it for some time, drawing several concepts for the furniture until they found themselves satisfied with the product of their ideas.

\- Great! I'll go to the woodworkers tomorrow and ask them to work on this. If this goes right, we certainly would improve greatly the health of our patients

\- Sure thing

Elrond fetched the back the book and went looking at their drawings as he put the book back at the desk.

\- Thank you Thranduil

\- He said turning back to his friend.

\- What are you thanking me for?

\- For indulging me and meet my ideas with open heart

\- Of course, if it makes you smile like that

\- Aren't you a fool?

\- I thought that was already established 

-o-

In the following days Elrond accompany the woodworkers as they progressed on their new project, and was happy to see the enjoyment that brought them.

Giving them more to do to help at their current situation than the grim labor of rebuild what was destroyed by the war and build funeral pires.

Those could be useful for the living, much of who their family and friends and that was gratifying.

As a result of their enlivenment, the chair was done in just one lefnar, chiseled and decorated with plenty of help of the sindar and silvan woodworkers on it’s making, by his own suggestion.

Together they brought up the beautiful piece it was, “worthy of a prince”, the greenwoods elves would say proudly clasping their partners from Rivendell, and Elrond was satisfied to see how well they worked together.

The same happened at their healing wards and kitchens and made Elrond think about how it would be if they were not separated by culture and past harms done.

But maybe a sparkle of hope had been lit… who knew.

Elrond and Galion, the prince personal aide, had conspirated to try and surprise Thranduil with the chair. 

Though Galion stated very improbable that the prince would have any kind of strong or outward reaction the elf assured the lord about how deeply appreciated the prince would be for their zeal.

The elf had been released from the healing ward just a week ago, and were the only one, besides Elrond himself, allowed to tend to the prince.

Since the prince had finally got out of his life threatening state to a more stable one, Elrond had gave permission for him to receive visits, what in his case meant official debrief.

What was done just by a handful of officials and advisors, in a considerable distance from his bed and with closed curtains.

Such rigidity raised lots of questions in Elrond’s mind, but since that part of their routine was new, he hadn’t yet the chance to talk to his friend about this peculiar choice and so it went uncommented until a better opportunity appeared.

Luckily, today the advisor was very efficient and sensible, finishing his official matters with the prince quickly after their arrival, dedicating a short obeisance to Elrond before retiring from the room.

Galion was the first to approach moving the curtains gently.

\- How are you feeling, my prince?

\- Tired… is all I can feel as of late

\- I would hope not so tired to enjoy the dusk in company of a friend

Completed Elrond getting closer to the bed as Galion opened it's curtains.

\- Do you intend to carry me?

Chuckled the prince, clearly understanding the comment as a jest. Elrond smiled, he actually expected to have time for his next answer until Thranduil looked at him, but of course his mind predicted such and went a step ahead.

Nonetheless he got to watch his expression as he looked at it.

\- No, not carry you exactly. More like guiding you, if you want me to

His eyes were wide and surprised, absorbing every detail of the furniture.

The chair was dark oak and well polished to an exuberant gleam, had a perfect balance between heavy and light structure and was absolutely comfortable.

While doing the chair the elves had this in mind. The owner of this chair would need it for a long time, so they wanted it to be a cozy restful place and though the style of Rivendell tended to a more opulent design it was simple but no less rich with the touch of the crafts style of greenwoods elves, which opted for a minimal decor themed by leaves, vines and flowers. It had dark red cushions, foot and arm rests, a high back to allow rest for back and neck.

It was a beautiful work that made Elrond very proud of their people, but he could see in Thranduil's eye that meant much more than that for him.

Almost four moons bedridden.

\- They finished it much faster than I expected

\- They did. Apparently they were eager to accomplish their new project as soon as they received it

\- It is beautiful…

There was a smile on his face, and that time it do reached his eyes.

\- I intended to have a tea by the balcony to watch the setting sun and hoped to have your company, If you are not too tired

The prince chuckled closing his eyes, evidently pleased.

\- Would be a pleasure

-o-

Elrond and Galion helped him into the chair, and with a satisfied sigh Thranduil rested over its cushions, touching gently the wood of his armrest with the tip of his fingers, the fondness in his posture was heartwarming.

The peredhel cared to cover the prince with a warm mantle and kept themselves inside the covered part of the balcony, windows partially open as not to chill the room too much.

But they got to see the sunset together this time, drinking tea and light snacks.

All the while he could see it, the happiness overflowing the sindar prince and suddenly Elrond understood, it was the first time he got to see the sky after so many years of siege, a clear sky, with sun and clouds and colors.

The thought made him lose his breath, as he turned back to his friend to watch his expression once more.

It was the first time for Thranduil that he was seeing it after all that horror. He was seeing hope.

-o-

> Deep spring sky, shining as sapphires submerse in a vast ocean were his pleading eyes, wellsprings gently bringing water to life.
> 
> And all Elrond could do was stare at him, a Maedhros with chained hands. But he could not be Fingon for his body was frozen in place, knees over the ground, his own tears blurring his vision burning his throat as he watched, powerless.
> 
> Under the grim light, his tears drowned blue eyes and lit into embers consuming his skin as they fell, blistering, erupting under the heat, slowly consuming his flesh, to his muscles, to his bones.
> 
> He did not screamed, muffling the sounds under his stubborn closed lips, body trembling, contorting against his chains as the embers devoured his left side whole, until finally in unbearable agony he cried out loud and begged, begged the skies, the valar, Ilúvalar for mercy.
> 
> However the valar never seemed to hear the prayers of gray elves, once again they didn’t listen to his voice, and so his eyes turned to Elrond’s again.
> 
> There was only horror inside that deep waters and the horrible sounds of his fëa shattering echoing around them..
> 
> \- Please Elrond
> 
> But he couldn't.
> 
> Shutting his own eyes Elrond turned his face away, whole body fighting with the revulsion of the plead. 
> 
> He couldn’t scape thought, for the sounds of his agony rippled inside his fëa.
> 
> \- End this, please!
> 
> \- No! no… I can't...
> 
> He cried out, the force of the screams shaking his whole body.
> 
> \- Please Elrond! Don’t let him take me... Please...
> 
> Shock hit him hard then and gray eyes dared look back at him again, horror sinking to his bones as he acknowledge the desperation of the blue ones.
> 
> \- Please!
> 
> Plead him again before another wave of torment took his chained body.
> 
> Mind screaming against it, the peredhel felt his hands gripping the stones under his hands as he considered, his own tears of despair hitting the ground and he could swear his heart was tearing apart to think this would be just the beginning…
> 
> With an extreme effort he holded the hilt of his sword, and fought the overpowering pressure against his body that seem to be made of stone.
> 
> He thought of Fingon, when his body trusted forward, almost own his own, when his hands stained the color of Meadhros hair, scarlet running through his sword, ruining his gloves and clothes and armor.
> 
> Seconds turned into hundreds of years as time seemed to stop existing and the noldo could hear, one by one, the heartbeats slowing down, the horrible sounds of blood filling lungs, desperate gasps for air, spams running his body. But his eyes were calm lakes, and they faded, turning dull, stars losing their bright into a forever dark night.
> 
> And suddenly he was not just himself anymore, he was both, silvery blond and starry black, sharp sindar and severe noldor face, as both in just one body, the brightest star light and the most exuberant spring faded into the unknown death of ‘firen’, bodies hanging like a sacrificial offer.
> 
> His own tears fell openly, hands still holding the hilt of the sword as he trembled feeling his own heart breaking apart, so much pain he could not breath but his eyes could not tear apart from them, so he saw when they started to morph.
> 
> They screamed.
> 
> And their scream disturbed the stillness of death, nature itself revolted against it, cracking and opening the earth with ravaging tremors.
> 
> Their voices where hundreds of them, all of them, the screams their dead on the battlefield and as their eyes, turned black as coal, stared back at him.
> 
> Their skin cracked like arid soil, and through it bright lava shone filling their bodies, consuming them from inside out, skin turned into grayish dead stone, hair into bright red, aflame, like their eyes that now burned.
> 
> Elrond felt terror consume him and tried to let go of the sword, to go away, but it was too late, for now wicked flaming eyes watched him madly and in one swift movement hands black as night gripped his throat.
> 
> He felt the fire burning him in seconds, he heard his own horrible screams.

Abruptly the images were cut, substitute for a foggy room, bleak and unstable but secure for there were opaline paired with deep sapphire, under very tired eyelids who despite of it looked at him attentively.

He could hear his own breath, ragged and desperate, feel his own body trembling and cold from fear.

He shut his eyes strongly and fought in silence against the sobs raising through his throat, it was just then that he became aware of his hand resting over his chest, held by warm gentle hands which thumbs were lightly drawing little circles on the back of his own.

As if finally wakening, he felt his body recognizing the touch, the light trembling of the left hand, the rise and fall of the chest, the low rumble of the lungs, the beating of the stubborn heart… and the vibration of his voice.

He was singing.

The sounds came into first, foreign to his ears and making no sense at first, but it was serene and made him think of flowers and long gone springs.

Opening his eyes he admired the elf, closed eyes, calm expression, loose limbs, full mouth drawing the movements, shaping the sounds.

From that side he couldn’t see the scars, just the side that wasn’t licked by fire and he felt despicable for feeling glad not have to see them.

He tried not to be dragged by these thoughts instead focusing on observe his beloved friend and how each of his lashes were so light in color and so long that each of them seemed to catch the low light of the hearth, how the borders of his eyelids seemed to have a little more tone creating a natural contour them, like a painting.

How his profile was a beautiful and straight and how the planes of his face seemed to play with the concept of strong and soft.

Suddenly he became aware of how close they were and that made him think of how they end up sleeping last night, after talking for hours about their childhood and having little nostalgic laughs at the memories.

They were so close that he could scent the faint smell of forest in him.. and burnt.

Sobs escaped him without him thinking of it and he forced them down, silencing at once. The grief consuming him from inside out.

Thranduil stopped his singing inclining his head touching Elrond’s forehead with his cheek.

\- Don’t hold it, mellon nín, let it out and leave your chest

The noldo just shook his head, despite having lost this battle already with tears rolling from his eyes.

\- When will it stop?

\- I wish I had the answers

The need to cry raised in Elrond like a wave, and Thranduil could feel it, feel the resistance to not let go of control, and equally felt as it crashed, water against rocks, and the force of it flooding and dragging everything on its way.

Thranduil just closed his eyes and let it drag him too.

The hours went long and slow.

In some moment his mind confounded past and present and the crying remembered him of children, silvan, sindar. Remembered him of Celeborn, of his voice and warm embrace lulling him to sleep, their voices together lulling their little scared children.

He heard himself singing without knowing when he resumed to.

In his mind echoed a certain sweet clear voice that used to melt the thick ice of winter into spring.

So he sung, as she would have, wishing his voice could melt the winter in their hearts, to the past and to the present... Songs of older times, easier times, were the cryings which his soft voice soothed were of elflings, and dreams were not of death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Thank you so much for reading and to all that are following this fic!
> 
> I know I've took too long to post the chapter 3  
> I'm sorry for keeping you waiting for so long!
> 
> Ideas do not come in chronological order to me, they just happen and then I have to write them down so I don't forget them, and that's how I've have written half of "the hobbit" with the participation of Thranduil in the journey ( ˘･з･)  
> Well...
> 
> I've been a little distracted these days, depression is not being easy on me, so if I left something out from the glossary, warn me and I'll include it.
> 
> Again, thank you so much for being part of this
> 
> Glossary:  
> lefnar: "a week" (sindarin), weeks for elves consist of five days  
> firen: "human", "mortal" (sindarin)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 - Apendix
> 
> The sindar had no sleep that night.
> 
> Just one more between so many. Those last days however his insomnia was being utile for something more than plague him with hallucinations and pain.
> 
> It was almost morning when the lord finally fell asleep, the sky already clear and blue outside, and the prince, finally drained, was thinking on following suit when he heard the knock on the door.
> 
> Rivendell inhabitants, his hearing told him observing the way they paced outside of the room, probably one of Elrond's aides.
> 
> Upon hearing nothing from the inside as answer, their visitors creaked gently the door open and gingerly a black haired head poked inside.
> 
> Thranduil was sleepy, but had enough presence of mind to stifled the want to giggle while questioning himself were he even found strength to.
> 
> The black haired elf looked around and, not finding his master at first sight, opened the door a little more, as if testing, then entered, a blond elf head following suit much less diffident but not confident at all.
> 
> Having a hard time not laughing at them, the prince was amused at the presence he made of himself for the elfs to feel so reluctant to enter his presence.
> 
> They looked around, the blond being bolder gave several paces ahead and around, looking for Elrond.
> 
> \- He is sleeping
> 
> Said Thranduil suddenly and the elfs jumped, scaredy, and turned to him confused.
> 
> \- Here
> 
> Continued the prince indicating his side with a short nod.
> 
> Upon recognizing their lord, the elves came to his direction, but Thranduil stopped them with a commanding voice and they stopped promptly.
> 
> “Well trained warriors… or scared stewards” he thought humoring himself.
> 
> \- He just got to sleep, let him be.
> 
> He said not looking at them.
> 
> In this position his good side was facing them so they couldn't see the damage if they didn’t come any closer.
> 
> \- Is he well?
> 
> Asked Erestor, worried, attentive.
> 
> \- No, but the ill that affects him is not one a healer could tend to
> 
> He said, his voice more princely than he had expected from himself. But it would do.
> 
> \- Shou… what should we do?
> 
> Said Glorfindel, his posture saying he was aching to get closer, his training holding him in place.
> 
> \- Water, food and let him rest
> 
> For a moment the warrior seemed confused, then distressed, then upset.
> 
> \- This can’t be all
> 
> Taking a step closer the elf exclaimed, craving something, anything that he could do to help his lord, Thranduil knew, but he also knew better and as the light of the prince’s eye fell on him the elf stopped, from his position he could only begin to see the damage on his face, a much more clear eye that accompanied the other, ice cold blue that warned him silently.
> 
> By his side Elrond stirred uncomfortably, but did not woke up.
> 
> The blond warrior pressed his lips and didn’t moved, Erestor shook his head, clearly troubled, but with what exactly Thranduil couldn’t say.
> 
> \- We will provide as such, is there something more we could be of use?
> 
> He said in a very low voice after a long pause of closed eyes thinking.
> 
> \- No
> 
> \- I understand. The matters concerning Rivendell shall be solved without bothering my lord for as long as needed
> 
> \- Very attentive Erestor, thank you
> 
> Thranduil nodded and at this Erestor looked pointedly to Glorfindel who for its time looked anxiously worried to Thranduil and Elrond, then sighed and went to his comrade side.
> 
> He looked like a scolded puppy and Erestor looked unimpressed.
> 
> Again Thranduil stifled his want to laugh and watched. There was something about them…
> 
> As they left, with a bow, the dark haired elf said again.
> 
> \- There will be a elf nearby, if any of you ever need anything
> 
> \- Just let Galion know he is needed
> 
> He nodded and with no more he practically shoved Glorfindel outside as he left the room.
> 
> Thranduil chuckled as they left and looked back to his friend, fast asleep by his side.

 

* * *

 

_ **Chapter 4: 4** _

  

>   _“Fills me with wonder that Thranduil, slowly but consistently, shows me that even not being able to hold me together, in means to keep me from breaking apart for himself was not unnabaladby that war, we were not alone._
> 
> _Always with that sense of union that was marvelling, heart warming._
> 
> _And thought I cried and there was nothing he could do or say to make the pain stop, he would always be there and offer comfort._
> 
> _And that surprisingly, was everything I could ever need in that time.”_

 

\- o -

 

Elrond was not as confused as he was when he woke up the first time in Thranduil’s bed.

He felt numb and tired, his mind made no sense of anything and the only thing clear was the need to go back sleep again.

But he fought back for a while, just to suffice his curiosity, giddily he put himself sit and looked around.

Warm hearth crackled, the smell of tea brewing, light filtering through the curtains, the softest bed sheets and covers  **Imladris** could offer, pillows, lots of them all around him over the bed, heavy quilts, a comfortable chair he knew so well, by the side of the bed, a very faint smell of medicine and herbs… and burn.

He was alone in the bed however and looked around for his friend finding him sat by the bench of the farthest window, right side leaning for support over the wall. Wind played gingerly with the strands of fine **mithril** hair.

Even burned he was beautiful, but the **peredhel** couldn't help sighing though.

\- You should not be up, Thranduil

Thranduil didn’t seemed surprised with his voice, his only response was a huff of a laughter.

\- I mean it

Reinforced the lord to the blond **sindar** who turned a little to him, more for the gesture than anything else for the side turned to him could not see anymore.

\- Good morning you too, my dear friend Elrond. What is the meaning of a wheeled chair if I'm bound to stay in bed?

Elrond thought about it for a moment.

\- Well…

Thranduil chuckled and patted the vacant spot by his side, Elrond went a little begrudgingly, groggy from sleep, but sat by his side.

Outside the sun was warm and comfortable, weather a little bit chilly for the prince, but he cared to wrap himself with some quilts to keep warmth with him.

He was enjoying the light, closed eyes, a calm satisfied expression on his face, a cat under the sun. Relaxed, muscles unwinded, even the dark circles under his eye seemed less intense, the pain less acute… but still present.

Elrond smiled watching him. It was beautiful and sad, and his heart ached, wishing he could do more to help, free him from the suffering, make the pain stop, but he couldn’t, and now he thought that the marks would forever live in this body. A sacrifice.

Even smiling he felt his eyes sting.

As if it called Thranduil looked at him, expression unguarded, showing question and worry and comprehension.

He took a moment longer to talk.

\- How are you feeling?

\- Horrible still

Thranduil nodded and gestured to him, he inclined obliging.

The prince caressed the dark strands of hair, aligning them, messed from sleep. Then caressed his face and pulled him until his head was laid over the pillow in his lap.

\- What are you doing?

\- Shhhh…

Said the sindar gently as he began to caress and pat the black head with his right hand.

At first Elrond thought this silly, but permit it thinking that Thranduil's hands did not felt bad.

In time he began to relax and feel drowsy, then the weariness began to lift, his muscles to unwind.

The burning in his eyes now stronger with the comprehension that that was a long time yearn buried deep inside. To be comforted.

What a horrible thing, he thought, that something so simple, so natural, would be so difficult to reach, to find, to permit himself receive.

\- You can cry if you want

\- Thank you Thranduil… but I think I had enough of crying for a **yén** …

He said despite his hoarse voice, shoving the want to cry deep inside. The sindar just continued caressing his dark hair.

\- I see... then let's just enjoy this beautiful morning

Fighting against sadness Elrond took his time, having some difficulties to concentrate in just to observe the outside.

So he tried as if he had to describe it to Thranduil.

This was a clear sunny morning, the sky were profound blue and soft clouds travelled the sky in a hurry.

The grass was golden yellow, gaining little by little a tint of browns, dyeing everything in bright colors. Some trees were a little ahead and gained bright orange and red tones as other were still pale and yellow, the contrasts rich to the eyes.

Their leafs falling in the paths of the gardens seemed like decoration, as if themselves dressed to receive the solstice.

Little rodents run to and fro gathering last time supplies for the winter to come, migrating birds passed by singing in chorus.

In the quietness of his house the sounds of the always running cascade immersed everything in a peaceful state, so much that even **Anor** seemed to lazily walk through the sky on that morning.

\- It's beautiful indeed

\- What would you say that cloud looks like?

\- There are many clouds in the sky…

\- See that round one?

Said the prince turning his head to one side specifically, and there it was, indeed a very round cloud.

\- Yes… I see a turtle

He answered feeling glad for his friend efforts but still too numb from sadness to feel joy in playing.

\- A turtle… interesting, to me it seems like a rock…

\- Really... A rock?

Questioned the lord not impressed finding a rock a too feeble attempt even for himself, that was sad and numb.

\- A rock...

The sindar continued unperturbed by the judgment on the lord’s voice.

\- On a riverbed. See the thinning clouds over? It’s the foam, and right above it there is a corpulent horse with a giant squirrel standing on its back

Oh well… but that was something and the idea seemed so absurd that made Elrond smile.

\- What?

\- Just above the turtle, look

Long minutes passed with him trying to see the figure, Thranduil tried to help a little more.

\- The squirrel is front to us so you can’t see his profile, but you can see both little ears at the top

He kept trying and in one moment he changed position propping over one elbow to see if upwards that made more sense.

And strangely it did.

\- You must be kidding me!

\- Can you see?

\- Yes!

Said Elrond looking incredulously to the clouds and then suddenly bursting in laughter.

\- You doubted me…

Said the prince feigning offense.

\- Of course I did! Look at how absurd this is!

He defended himself gesturing to the general direction of the cloud.

\- Your turn

Answered Thranduil only with his mischievous smile.

   
morning time - <https://www.instagram.com/p/ByAGv3nFocF/>

\- o -

 

It was late in the morning when Galion finally coaxed them to have some food

They spent most of the morning like this, coming up with absurd forms and stories to accompany the shapes of the clouds, that lifted a bit of the sadness numbing their moods and the Lord felt a little more lively.

He wondered how could it be that such small silly things like this could make such a difference.

It was with a smile in his face, head comfortably rested over Thranduil's lap that they heard Galion at their backs.

\- I’ve set the table for you two, you should eat now, you both can keep playing later

Elrond had no truly wish, or energy really, to move from where he was, even more to think on eating something.

But then… Thranduil was extremely reciprocate, and if he refused to eat, so would the prince.

And he didn't want it, not now that they finally got to overcome the more risky off his life threatening wounds.

\- Are you too sad to eat?

Asked Thranduil with soft gentle voice, bringing him back from the haze while caressing his dark hair.

\- I… think I should try anyway

\- This is a good decision, **mellon nin**

Taking a deep breath Elrond gathered all the energy he had just to sit up and look at his friend.

Half of his face was covered in wounds, neck, shoulder and left arm.

It was out of an unthought whim when he inclined forward and touched his left side of his face with careful fingers, then cupping it with affection regarding that sad blue eye of him that still dared to fight and find little bits of happiness with pure reverence.

He inclined further and could hear as Thranduil's breath catched a moment before their foreheads touched together.

He had no words to thank that elf in front of him. To express how grateful he was for all he had done in that time even being so hurt and frail himself.

All he kept on doing to help as much as he could.

Since the first time he had known the prince of greenwoods, his wonderful and endearing persona, so strange and uncommon, always shinning through his fëa and covered his whole being in that heartwarming light.

Now they were so close, and it was astounding to see that even in face of such horror and suffer, that light did not lost its strength.

Thranduil was something special to his heart, and he could never find enough words to describe it.

\- Thank you so much, mellon nín!

\- There is nothing for you to thank me for, Elrond

To that the peredhel parted from the prince looking at him with absolute adoration, so much it was difficult for the prince to breath.

The Lord just held both his hands and kissed them with utmost care.

\- I do, and I wish someday I will be able to have words to describe it to you, dear friend

\- Lord Elrond

Said Galion at the door interrupting "accidentally" them both, permiting Thranduil letting a quiet but trembling sigh as Elrond stood away.

\- Lord Glorfindel and lord Erestor wish to know if they would be welcome in join you this morning meal

That made Elrond smile and huff fondly annoyed.

\- They decide for themselves when I am or am not working, then ask me permission to have breakfast together… Those two. Of course they are

Galion nodded barely containing a giggle.

\- I’ll let them know, they’ll be waiting in the living for your presence, then I'll tend to my prince and soon we'll join you

\- Thank you Galion

With one more gesture Elrond placed a kiss over Thranduil's forehead and got up begrudgingly to fetch some robes and go through his morning routines before joining his friends.

Thranduil though was frozen in place and despite of the shock he chuckled, or maybe that was exactly the reason. The gesture, so earnest and gentle caught him of guard in such a way that he didn't know how to respond and could just laugh at himself.

He couldn't even remember when he last felt this way.

So he just kept there, soaking every second, every minimal expression, every beat of his crazed heart, every sound, and light and smell and shape. Engraving that image forever in his mind. Frozen in place until he heard the click of the door closing behind the lord of Imladris then looked at Galion, now by his side, who could see how shaken the prince was.

His breath was short his blue eye wide open, lower lips trembling as well as his hands when the elf took them kneeling at his front.

\- I…

\- What a surprise, is it not?

\- Yes... I don’t..

\- Don't think about it right now, Thranduil my friend…

Said Galion smiling to a very confused looking prince.

It was bordering ludicrous that Thranduil felt so lost in such situation, when Galion himself could understand what happened a mile away, even being younger than the prince.

Or maybe he knew, but would over analyze everything as he used to do. A tell tale of how Oropher had raised his only son.

\- I’ll fetch you a glass of wine

\- … thank you… I…

\- And won't tell Elrond, rest assured

\- Thank you Galion

 

\- o -

 

They took a little while to join the group, having to dress Thranduil's wounds as Elrond had instructed was quite a job.

As Thranduil got to move around and go outside of a dirt controlled environment, he opted to cover his wounds to prevent anything from disturbing them, keep them moisturized and with medicines at all times, and finally prevent the closed ones from cracking back open, for that reason the way the bandages were wrapped served also as a restriction to prevent unrequited movements.

Just then would he dress the prince himself and get into his chair.

If they took a little more so Thranduil could stop trembling that was nothing for them to know.

That way when they entered the living he was absolutely back to his iron control and made Erestor and especially Glorfindel surprised to see him joining them.

They looked at his bandages with worry, but also with admiration for the prince even bandaged up and visibly fragile from the would, was still beautiful.

Galion, as much as the prince himself, took a great pride and secret pleasure in helping his friend to preen as handsomely as he could possibly be.

That time was no different and smartly Galion had braided the prince’s hair in way that it fell over his left side, making the bandages less visible and bringing more attention to his right side and bright blue eye.

He dressed cream colored robes, simple but that had variations in tone making loose abstract patterns of flowers that resembled of watercolors, they were fitted at his right arm with delicate strings, and closed loosely over his white inner tunic at the front in the same way, a dark wine sash held the robe in place by his waist and a long mantle of the same color covered most of his left side and fell freely at the right. Warm soft white fabric for his trousers and simple fabric shoes for his feets.

The aide also had the care to add little winter-berries twigs between the braids as accents so the look tied all together in deep reds, warm creams and winter whites.

\- Oh! Prince Thranduil, I didn’t thought you would be joining us

Said Erestor

\- That is a very smart contraption you have there

Commented Glorfindel with a amiable expression.

\- We have your lord to thank for the concept and the craftsman for constructing this as beautifully as they have

\- A truly wonderful work indeed

Said the blond with a warm smile

\- How are you feeling, my friend? Is the pain still too strong?

Continued Glorfindel with a tone of utmost care and respect to which Thranduil, to the surprised of the other two elfs, did not took as a transgression, dedicating only a nod before answering with a gentle tone. As if a friends confession to another.

\- It is not as excruciating as it was in the first moon, but still I feel like as if they are trying to eat me alive, from inside out…

Glorfindel agreed silently with a comprehensive and sad expression.

\- Do you get to sleep?

\- Yes, thanks to Elrond's medicines, but not as much as I wish

\- I am sorry to hear that, my friend, and I truly wish your pain eases soon. **Morgoth's** fire is a terrific wound to endure and it is not a small thing you are doing fighting against it

\- Thank you, Glorfindel

\- You have my respect and my sympathy, my friend. And I'll be glad to be at your service for whatever is your need

\- I thank your comradery very deeply, I'll keep it in my heart

It was a very strange and very impromptu exchange. So deep and intimate that made the other two wonder if they ever had a closer relationship before, but was just in the middle of it they understood.

Glorfindel had been killed by **Morgoth's** fire himself before being brought back by the **Valar's** mercy.

If someone in middle Earth could ever be able to understand what Thranduil was feeling, is was Glorfindel.

They could only imagine how agonizing it should have been, but now, Thranduil was living it himself without the escape of death and the rest of **Mandos**.

All at once all the sympathy and care was justified and they felt their hearts drop a beat in sadness.

Strong willed Thranduil, surely was hurting horribly, but staying with his calm honored complexion. Elrond felt his throat close.

\- Did you got to wander by the gardens? Autumn is giving us a beautiful season this **coranar**

\- Not yet, and I believe I won't have the chance until the next one

Glorfindel nodded sipping from his tea.

\- Keeping energy I see, you are right in doing so

\- Though I believe you may reconsider…

Continued Erestor mid of picking some bread.

\- We intend to celebrate **fírith** soon, though we celebrate it ourselves your people asked permission to do it second their own traditions, which we conceded, so this coranar the organization of the festivities rests with your people, Thranduil

That seemed to surprise deeply the prince and Elrond watched as he seemed to introspect, casting his eye down.

\- You are right, Erestor, that makes me reconsider some things. Though I wonder why they haven't brought up the matter with me personally

\- The reason being they were trying to make you a treat

Intervened Galion placing some warm tea for his prince, he used no aggressive tone at all but Erestor felt the comment pointed to him anyway.

\- I am sorry Galion, I didn't know…

\- No harm is done, my friend. I was thinking on bringing the matter with the prince myself, since it's better if we all have time to prepare for the event

\- Is there a reason why you must prepare?

Asked Elrond, now very used to pay attention to the ways the prince silently change in demeanor, that one specifically, though never seen before, caused uneasiness in the Lord.

\- There is! But I don't think a lecture about our cultural traditions is matter for breakfast. Lord Elrond!

Said the prince aide good humored making Erestor and Glorfindel chuckle, but that wasn't enough to chase away the restlessness of his heart as he watched the smile on Thranduil's face never reach his eye.

 

\- o -

 

Deciding that press the matter with Thranduil would be taking a risky move with his mood, Elrond decided that joining in the task of the festivities preparations was a wiser option.

That's how the Lord came to know Narlassë and Belaithil, the first an **ellon** with hair of flamed colors as Autumn leaves and skin darkened of working on open sun, his face and shoulders were covered in freckles and his eyes beautiful green. He was a **main** of an independent clan on southern greenwoods and was responsible for organizing **fírith** festivities together with Belaithil, a delicate but strong looking **elleth** that was a commanding officer of greenwoods army and also part of the council in **Amon Lanc** , her tanned skin a rich golden color and hair of the color of darkwood fell down her shoulders in waves and her eyes were sweet honey.

Elrond learned they both had been on war and among the wood-elves that followed their prince and wounded into Imladris.

After talking with both they decided is they show him what was been done already and that how Belaithil walked him through the teams, already well divided and the tasks well distributed in a way that none would interfere with their daily activities

In that manner, they pointed that the Lord would be much welcome joining the early night activities wherever he found comfortable to be. It was thinking of Thranduil's always cleverly well made headdresses that he interested in joining the teams that put decorations together.

Currently they were weaving long braids of red Autumn leaves like long garlands that would be wrapped around big arches of branches that the Lord wondered, marveled, how had they been done.

\- You are getting the way quickly, Lord Elrond!

Said an **elleth** called Celebrian with her sweet smiling voice.

He knew her before, reminding very clearly when she and her mother, Galadriel, had passed through Imladris before the war.

She had hair like Thranduil, silver and golden at the same time, but the waves that only shown on the ends of his hair covered all the extension of her mithrill strands that today where braided around her head and back, adorned with small white flowers.

\- It is a soothing work

\- Is it not? There is a peaceful feeling in working with the hands

He could understand that, the movement were grounding, easy, repetitive, and at the same time needed attention enough so not to let the mind wander too much, also the results showed quickly as he progressed and the exuberant colors of the leaves were brought together.

Made him think of their routine and how soothing he found to be.

All sorts of new things sindar and **silvan** people were showing him.

\- I wish to understand better of what is this celebration about

\- Do your people not celebrate firith?

Asked her intrigued sitting bu his side, her own basket of leaves and vines in her hands.

\- We do of course! But it seems in a very different manner then your people does

\- Oh! Oh yes I believe that is right. It is said you were raised in a very **noldorin** house-hold

\- Yes, it is true!... But the culture of your people neve ceased to intrigued me. Maybe as so I would not stray too far from my own lineage

She smiled at that beginning her work, he smiled too looking back at his own work.

- Would you mind to educate me, miss Celebrian?

\- Would be a pleasure! So, I believe that fírith is also the last celebration for your people, yes?

\- Well if **rhîw** does not count as a celebration by your people, then yes

\- We do celebrate rhîw, but as a more personal celebration, is a time for the self and the close ones, to think and to renew as anor is coming back and earth rebirth

\- It is quite difficult to be small and personal here in Imladris

He chuckled and she took a little time to understand.

Imladris was refugees house, where they could find shelter to heal, rest and stay if they wanted to. Many of them had no families remaining, as the lord himself. That way the house was thought as to receive every and each one in need as family, what made them all family to each other.

Elrond could notice the exact moment the elleth comprehended that, for her cheeks turned pink quickly making him giggle at her loss composture.

\- Oh I am sorry lord Elrond! I didn't mean to...

\- All is well, no harm is done

He said but she still seemed very embarassed, so he decided to continue.

\- So... your people does not celebrate a new coranar in **yëstare**

Nudged Elrond still not looking to her so she could recompose herself without being so self-conscient.

\- Oh! Oh no! We do celebrate yestarë, but our coranar begins in Rhîw

\- Why is that?

\- Because... anor wanes from **lavas** to rhîw when, in the solstice it starts to rises back in the sky

\- But nature rebirths at **ethuil**

\- Yes, but it is pregnant before it rebirths

\- Oh!

He stopped amid a braid of red leaves to look at her.

\- Yes... that makes sense. I remind Prince Thranduil had told me, long time ago, that the thought of winter as the end was silly but I didn't grasp what he meant by that at the time. I guess that is the reason then. Rhîw is not the end, but the wait before rebirth

\- Yes!

He laughed then she was amused

\- That makes so much sence! And is a much more optimistic point o view

\- Noldorin culture does not think the same, I suppose

\- No, isn't that silly? Now that I think about it seems so obvious, isn't that strange that culture can influence us so much as that? I wonder why we do forget the bearing 

\- Well prince Thranduil has a done a lot of studies about this, they are good books, you should ask him about it

\- Does he?

Elrond seemed taken aback and she, who was still watching him seemed to find it really funny.

\- Prince Thranduil is a studious accounted for lots of researches that benefits our people, this is only one of them

The lord still seeming impressed and that made her laugh.

\- You didn't knew...

\- Trully I don't know why I did not expected that. I've meet him while he was doing a research, I just... didn't know it went so far as researching culture and behavior...

\- There is more than this, believe me

\- I am sure there is...

He chuckled shaking his head still in disbelief.

\- Thranduil Oropherion, so full of mysteries! I can even imagine what he will say when I ask, _"You never asked"_ he will say, that ellon!

\- You should ask him then

She said amused

\- I sure will, but please continue. I've interrupted you, I am sorry

\- There is no problem at all, so!

She began again with a smile in her face resuming her work on braiding the leafs.

\- You wanted to know about firith. As you know, it have much to do with the change of seasons. At that time in a **loa** the earth and nature have grown, flourished, gave us it's fruits, and is now slowly receding so it can rebirth again

\- Yes I am familiar with the concept

She nodded with a chuckle and continued.

\- For us a loa, a **galas** represents the perpetual motion of life, and as we observe nature we understand that time as the ending of a cycle. That manner fírithis a time for us to be grateful for life that is and the life that was given to grant what now exists

Elrond entertained the idea of continuing his work but choose to stop as he listened to her giving his full attention.

\- In a way, our people tend to reflect about that cycle and what it means to us in a personal way. So as it also gains a meaning of being grateful for our own lives and the ones who had gone. A simpler way to see fírith for us, is as a time when we honored death, Mandos, and with it our ancestors and the deceased one's… Though it may seem to be a sad celebration, for many of us it is a time of reflection, it is also a moment to find peace, to put our sorrows away and find rest for the grief

She gathered a handful of leaves and continued working.

\- This coranar is specially important since many of us did not have a chance to mourn our deceased in the war. So this time that also works as a collective ceremony of obsequies, for us to finally depart from our loved ones and let them rest peacefully in Mandos

Elrond felt his chest tighten, his own mind traveling easily to all the ones he grieved for.

\- I… have heard that it requires some preparations

He said fondling with the leaves distractedly making she look from him to his work to her own, then smile sweetly.

\- Well yes… But it has less to do with the ceremony and more with ourselves, the feelings we carry and the ways we find to depart from it. The ceremony by its own is very simple: when one feels ready, they go to the lake and set a candle alight, that physically represents the **fëa** of our loved ones and give us something to focus, to that token we say our prayers and farewells, then place it over the water to represent the act of letting go of the physical form and our own grief. It’s also a way to understand and accept, as we found out that depart from the candle and watch it drift and fade away into the darkness, make us understand better the passage of the **fae** from here to Mandos

Closing his eyes, the Lord took its time to digest what he heard. A celebration of farewells.

It was simple that was true, but was the gesture entitled a much more complex act from withing.

He couldn't help but think about his own loved ones, lost in war, and the tight feeling of sadness and grief, powerlessness and frustration took over him…

Could it be that simple to let go?

Middle of his wonder he felt a warm touch over his knee and looked up.

\- Are you well?

\- I was just thinking about it…

Celebrian smiled, apparently enjoying his answer for some reason.

Taking her hand back she just regarded him for a while.

\- It is not a sad celebration however, for what we celebrate is the life. We long them, of course, but the objective is to remember the happiness their lives brought us and try to find some peace with the departure, reminding that this is all just part of a cycle

\- You make it seems simple

\- That is why it requires preparations. What you are doing, helping us, is a way to prepare for example. Think about the loved ones and how much would them enjoy what is being done, what they like, what would make them smile and bring it to the celebration so they can be part of it

Elrond looked down at his hands, at his work in deep thought.

He remembered of all the soldiers, his friends, who lost his lives in battle, remembered of Gil-Galad... He knew his king enough, he would like to be remembered with happiness and love.

He remembered also of a night long past in Lindon. Of a wood-elves celebration of lavas they watched from one of the balconies surrounding the open hall were the festivities took place.

He remembered the easy laugh at hearing his thoughts about their alleged play of jumping over the tall fires, and the warmth of the hand over his shoulder as they sipped from sweet dark wine, made from the same hands he had just called foolish. 

> _“They can seem foolish, Elrond. But never doubt this people wisdom for more than once they proved wiser than us”_

Had said the king that night, warm smile and knowing eyes.

At that time he could not comprehend what he meant, too young, but he did now… He was right.

\- I’m sure he would like this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a little effort to post 4th chapter earlier <3  
> That cause my eyes to be tired so even passing through the text many times I could not see any errors in my writing.  
> So forgive me and let me know if you found any
> 
> I want to talk about why Elrond lack of knowledge about sindar and silvan culture  
> First: I credit most of it to the fact that Elrond and his brother were raised by the noldor princes, Maedhros and Maglor, so his contact with other cultures was very low, even in Lindon under Gil-Galad, who was also noldor, there was not much chance for that kind of exchange for their people were separated bit a river.  
> Did you know? o-o  
> North Lindon was majority populated by noldor elves and South Lindon was majority sindar.  
> Crazy isn't it?  
> Second: I like to think that Sindar are very secretive, you almost don't hear about them. When you do (if I am remembering right) is on Unfinished Tales, and it's about Celeborn and Galadriel, nothing about Thranduil and his elfs.  
> Third: To be honest, I love to think that sindar do not talk about them if not asked. As I do like to imagine forest people as flighty and fleeting.  
> Fourth: This is also a thing that I base my writing, when Tolkien envisioned the elves, he thought in how they would be the predecessors of the tales we have today about fairies and magical forest beings, like titania and oberon. And well, they do are mysterious, so would be their ancestors.  
> Fifth: When Bilbo writes his red book, he describes the record of the elves solar year based in the reckoning of rivendel, the only elven calendar he knows about and that stood out to me.  
> There may be others? I do like to think wood-elves would think about the year in a different way from the noldor.  
> But why would this be the only one Bilbo knows of? Did he not search that much? Don't Elrond have that information written somewhere? Or is it a personal book?  
> Mostly I think Tolkien didn't bother to develop it that much...? What is good, so I can develop them as I see fit.
> 
> And yeeees Thranduil is a researcher, a studious 8D  
> Who would think! That mischievous face of him hides more than glorious allurement and flirtatious persona?  
> Yes he is a studious and he knows people often disbelief him by the way he looks, but to him it is an advantage so he can just play being foolish as he get to research.
> 
> Let me know if you want more random facts about them (of my headcanons of course)
> 
> Glossary  
> Imladris: Canyon of the Cleft, Deep Dale of the Cleft (Sindarin), elven healm founded by Elrond in Second Age  
> mithril: true-silver, a silver-like metal (Sindarin) it was said of a a silver-colored metal, which mirrors starlight and moonlight  
> peredhel: Half-elf, Half-elven (Sindarin)  
> sindar: Grey-elves (Quenya), variant form sindë that means grey, pale or silvery grey, the elves of Beleriand under the rule of Elu Thingol  
> yén: Elvish long year, long year, year equivalent to 144 Sun-years (Quenya)  
> anor: sun (Sindarin)  
> mellon nín: friend of mine, my friend; mellon ("friend) + nín ("my") (Sindarin)  
> morgoth: dark enemy; morn (“dark, black”) + coth (“enemy”) (Sindarin); Sindarin name of the Vala Melkor  
> valar: Power, ‘God’, Authority, a Power (Quenya); The Valar are a group of immensely powerful spirits guarding the world on behalf of its Creator; they are sometimes called Gods, but were in truth created by a greater being than themselves called Eru Ilúvatar  
> mandos: castle of custody, the halls of the Vala Námo, the dwelling place of departed Elvish spirits (Quenya); Name variation for Námo, the judge, Vala of fate and keeper of the Houses of the Dead (Quenya)  
> coranar: sun-round, (solar) year (Quenya)  
> fírith: fading, end of autumn (Sindarin)  
> main: prime, chief, pre-eminent (Sindarin)  
> Amon Lanc: the Naked Hill (Sindarin), capital of the Woodland Realm of the Silvan Elves under Oropher in the Second Age  
> ellon: male elf; poet (when applied to noldorin male elfs exiles); (Sidarin)  
> elleth: elf-maid; elf-woman; female elf (Sindarin)  
> silvan: forest people; wood-elves (Quenya), a name used to refer to the reclusive, forest-dwelling elves of Middle-earth  
> noldorin: the noldor language (Quenya); Noldor: those that have knowledge, "the Wise", name of the second clan of the Eldar to arrive in Valinor (Quenya); Noldo: dark-haired (Quenya)  
> rhîw: winter season (Sindarin)  
> yëstare: begining-day, first day of the year (Quenya)  
> lavas: variation of iavas, autumn season (Sindarin)  
> ethuil: spring season (Sindarin)  
> loa: growth (Quenya)  
> galas: growth (Sindar), a solar year on which we observe a full cycle of plants life  
> fëa: spirit, soul, incarnate spirit, indwelling spirit of incarnate being, indwelling spirit, spirit indwelling in body (Quenya)  
> fae: Spirit, soul (Sindar)


End file.
